


Let It Slip

by zaphodsgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Freudian Slip, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaphodsgirl/pseuds/zaphodsgirl
Summary: Dean always comes over to spend time with Cas when he’s upset.





	Let It Slip

**Author's Note:**

> Much love and thanks as always to my beta, [Superhoney](http://archiveofourown.org/users/superhoney). I hope you enjoy!

Dean shows up not long after Cas gets home from work, his face pinched and his arms filled brown paper bags. 

"Can I come in?" he asks harshly, and Cas steps back and holds the door open for him. Dean heads straight for the kitchen as Cas trails curiously behind him, loosening his tie and unfastening a couple of shirt buttons. Dean unpacks half a dozen cartons of Chinese food, two six packs of beer, a bottle of whiskey, and the _Lord of the Rings_ box set before he leans into the counter, his palms pressing so hard into the granite surface Cas worries it might crack.

"Rough week?" he finally ventures when no explanation is forthcoming. Dean sighs and lets his muscles slacken before he gives Cas a sheepish look.

"I'm sorry to barge in like this," he says, gesturing to the counter. "I know you don't have any plans tonight and I'm taking advantage, but something happened today. And I just really need to be around someone that I can just..."

Cas's heart flutters in his chest like a frantic bird trying desperately to take flight from the perch it's chained to, and he clears his throat while he stalls to calm himself. They've been friends for years, and he's never been able to rid himself of the silent hope that Dean might someday look at him _that_ way. 

"Of course, Dean. Let me go change while you set up the movie." 

Dean visibly relaxes further, and gives him a small smile. Cas nods in acknowledgement before he heads into his bedroom. He shuts the door firmly before leaning back against it, closing his eyes.

"Get a grip," he mutters under his breath, pushing off the door and rummaging in the dresser for his favorite Friday night sweatpants and a worn t-shirt. "He thinks of you as a brother." 

In fact, Cas knows that's exactly why Dean has come to him instead of going to Sam, because Sam will want him to talk about what's bothering him and get whatever happened off his chest. Cas is the brother-type he comes to when he's upset but doesn't want to be subjected to the third degree, knowing that Cas won’t push even if he wants to. It’s a blessing and a curse, he supposes, that this is the reason Dean spends so much time in his company. Cas steels himself after he changes clothes, clenching his fists tightly for a moment, then wanders back into the living room and takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch from Dean.

"Thanks again, Cas. I got the Lo Mein you like, and an order of those Chinese donuts for you." He hands Cas a container with a pair of chopsticks embedded into it as well as an open beer, and Cas takes them gratefully. Dean seems to have all his favorite foods memorized, even the ones he normally doesn't allow himself to indulge in. He gets into a comfortable position on the couch as Dean starts the movie, and they eat in silence as they take in Middle Earth.

It's not until the first movie ends and Dean moves to change discs that Cas gets any insight into his visit. 

"I ran into Benny today," Dean says, aiming for nonchalant and landing squarely in the middle of petulant instead. Cas waits patiently, trying to ignore the flare of jealousy he feels at the mention of Dean's ex-boyfriend. He has a thousand questions, but asking them will not only give him away but cause Dean to clam up, and so he waits. "He wasn't alone."

"I'm sorry," Cas says reflexively, though what he means is more _I'm sorry you're upset_ than _I'm sorry he chose someone else_.

"Yeah," Dean says, hitting the _Play_ button before he sits back down. "Introduced me to his pregnant wife, asked how I was doing. Asked how you were, too, actually."

"Really?" Cas tilts his head, ignoring the opening of _The Two Towers_ to give Dean a quizzical look. "I wasn't aware he had any interest in my well-being while you were together, why would he ask about me now?" He curses himself, because he probably should have asked about the pregnant wife instead, since that’s likely the cause of Dean’s discontent.

Dean shrugs but doesn't say anything else. Cas desperately wants him to go on, but years of study at the school of Dean Winchester have taught him that hope is futile, and so he opens the waxed paper bag of donuts with a sigh.

"Can I have one?" Dean asks, but shakes his head when Cas holds out the bag. "I don't want to get sugar all over my fingers, it'll mess up the remote. Dig one out for me." Cas sighs indulgently, pulling out a fried ball of sugared dough. He just holds it in Dean's direction without looking, and his heart nearly stops when Dean takes it into his mouth, caressing the tips of Cas's fingers with his lips. He yanks his fingers back and shifts his position on the couch, grateful that all the only light in the room is coming from the TV, rendering his blush invisible. 

They clean up all the food after the second movie, and it's not long after _Return of the King_ starts that he realizes Dean has fallen asleep. He’s still sitting upright, his head resting against the back of the sofa. Cas studies his profile in the flickering light of the screen, taking in the slope of his Adam's apple, the rise and fall of his chest, before he gets up and gently liberates the remote from Dean's slack hand.

He pads into his bedroom, turning on the light and pulling the door mostly shut, letting just a sliver illuminate the living room. Only then does he turn off the TV before he grabs a pillow and blanket out of the linen closet, the light from his room just enough to navigate by.

He places the pillow in the spot where he was sitting, then gently puts a hand on Dean's shoulder and tries to maneuver him to lie down.

"Whassup Cas?" he says sleepily, though he doesn't resist, nestling into the pillow and curling his legs up onto the couch. Thankfully he took his shoes off hours ago, and Cas shakes the blanket out and covers him with it. He resists the urge to run his fingers through Dean's hair after he tucks it around him.

"Go back to sleep," Cas says softly.

"Okay, sweetheart," Dean responds, and Cas freezes midstep on the way to his own bedroom and doesn't move until he hears the sound of Dean softly snoring.

*******

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to get his mind off the person currently sleeping on the couch in the other room.

_It didn't mean anything._

He turns onto his side and stares at the wall instead.

_He was asleep, he was confused._

He turns onto his stomach and buries his face in the pillow. 

_You're letting your own feelings convince you this is something that it isn't._

Lather, rinse, repeat for an hour. He's so caught up in his own head that he almost doesn't hear the soft knock at his bedroom door. Even so he freezes up, unsure if he heard correctly, but it comes again followed by a loud whisper as the door opens a crack.

"Cas?" He sits up and turns on the switch by the bed, the lamp on the far side of the room illuminating Dean as he peers around the door. "Can I come in?"

"Uh," he starts, taking his hand off the switch and scooting back against the headboard, pulling the covers around himself. "Of course, come in. What's up?" 

Dean pads over to the bed in his socks and sits on the edge of the mattress closest to the door, opposite the side Cas occupies. "I'm sorry I fell asleep. Wasn't sure you'd still be up."

"Oh, well. Just one of those nights, I guess." He bends his legs under the sheet, leaning on his knees and wrapping his arms around them. "What's wrong?"

Dean hesitates, picking at the blanket with his fingers and avoiding Cas's gaze. "Why did you jerk your hand back when you fed me the donut?" 

"What?" Of all the things he expected to come out of Dean's mouth, this wasn't even on the list. Dean glances up at him, then turns to sit on the edge with his back to Cas, leaning into his hands as they grip the edge of the mattress.

"How long have we been friends?" 

Cas's head is spinning, both because he can't follow the thread of their conversation and because he's afraid to. "A long time. Ten years?"

"Yeah," Dean sighs. "Do you, I mean...did you ever, in all that time, want to _not_ be friends?"

"Would you rather we weren't friends?" Cas blurts out, the panic in his voice evident. He'd always thought they were close, the very best of friends, but maybe they’ve been too close for Dean’s comfort. The words tumble out of his mouth as he clutches his knees, trying to keep himself calm. "Are you saying you don't want to be friends with me anymore? Why? What have I done?" 

"Hey," Dean says in alarm, turning to put a leg on the bed and a hand on Cas's arm, rubbing into the skin with his thumb. "I think you're rather spectacularly missing the point." 

Cas buries his head in his knees, feeling the warm circles of Dean's thumb on his forearm, forcing himself to breathe. "I'm sorry, Dean. What is the point?" He can feel Dean's hesitation, the slight pause in his movements, the intake of breath before he speaks.

"When Benny asked me about you, he asked if we'd finally gotten together." 

"What?" Cas blurts out, head shooting up to look at Dean, who takes his hand away and gazes at the blankets as if they're fascinating. "Finally...what?"

"I need to ask you something, okay? And if you give me an honest answer, it won't affect our friendship. We can wake up in the morning and go on exactly as before, I promise." 

Cas sits up, extending his legs before him and placing his hands in his lap, exuding a calm exterior that belies the complete turmoil in his mind. He hopes his dread doesn’t show on his face. "Go ahead."

Dean nods, still not making eye contact. "What I meant to ask was: did you ever want to be _more_ than friends?" He goes completely still, as though he's not even breathing, and Cas feels much the same. _This is it_ , he thinks. _He's onto you. Maybe he always has been._ He wonders if Benny had always seen through him, and that's why he teased Dean about it earlier. Maybe Dean hadn't actually known about how Cas felt until then, and he came over tonight to confront him about it, but couldn’t bring himself to until now.

"Were you baiting me earlier?" he asks, his heart sinking at the realization. "Have you been trying to get me to give myself away? Teasing me with the hand feeding, pretending to be half asleep and calling me _sweetheart_?" He feels hollowed out and a little betrayed, and he swallows heavily around the lump in his throat as he looks away. "It's not like I ever wanted to feel this way. If I could make it go away, I'd have done it years ago.” He takes a deep breath, willing himself not to tear up, to let his emotions choke his voice. “We can go back to the way things were tomorrow with no hard feelings, but I wish you had just asked me outright instead of trying to goad me into a confession." He slides back under the covers and turns his back to Dean, punching his pillow down as though he's going right back to sleep. "Turn off the light when you leave, please." 

He can tell Dean isn't moving, and he needs him to leave before he breaks down, but he doesn't trust himself to say anything else without his voice breaking. He's a little surprised when Dean doesn't get off the bed and leave the room, but instead says something in a choked whisper.

"Years?" Cas cringes, sure that the strain in Dean’s voice is disgust.

"I know you don't feel the same. I've always known," Cas says through clenched teeth, tensing his entire body and willing Dean to go away. "I've never let my feelings affect our friendship. I don't plan to start now. _Please go_. Everything will be just as it was in the morning, don’t worry." He holds his breath and closes his eyes, nearly sobbing in relief when he feels Dean get up from the bed and cross the room. He can tell from behind his eyelids that the light goes off, and he counts to ten as he waits to hear the door being pulled shut. 

Instead, he hears a shuffling sound before the mattress dips and Dean rolls over to press up behind him, throwing an arm over his waist and pressing his palm over Cas's heart as he leans to whisper in his ear.

"I don't want everything to be as it was. I've wanted more than that for a long time. I just didn't think _you_ wanted that." 

Cas inhales so sharply that he coughs on his own breath. "What?" He's dreaming. He must be. 

Dean shifts to pull at Cas's shoulder until he rolls onto his back. "I'm not really good with talking," he says, and in the semi-darkness his eyes drift down to Cas's lips before he catches his gaze again, "but there are a lot of things we need to talk about."

Cas swallows, nodding his head a little, his heart beating wildly in his chest. "Yes, Dean." He licks his lips, drawing that green gaze back to them for a moment. "Where would you like to start?"

There's silence for a moment, and Dean's hand moves slowly from Cas's shoulder to trace across his chest and brush against his cheek. 

"Can I kiss you, Cas?" he whispers, so lowly that Cas wonders if he actually heard him or just read his lips. 

"I thought you wanted to talk?" he whispers back, his hand coming up to stroke the skin of Dean's forearm.

"Tomorrow."

Just before their lips finally meet, Cas has a single moment when he's afraid he might wake up after all, but then he doesn't think about anything but the feeling of Dean pressing against him for a long time. 

*******

The light filtering through the blinds would suggest it's late in the morning when Cas finally opens one eye, groaning and pulling the covers over his head. He's snuggling back into the blankets, telling himself that it's Saturday and he can sleep all day if he wants to, has nothing to do until later when Dean...

He bolts upright and surveys the empty half of the mattress, rubbing his eyes and trying to will himself completely awake as he pieces together the previous night. 

_Dean came over because he'd seen Benny, he was upset about something, he fell asleep on the couch and then..._

He throws the covers back and tiptoes over to the closed bedroom door, opening it just a crack to peer into the living room. From this angle he can just see one of the couch cushions, where a neatly folded blanket is placed with the pillow sitting on top of it. The entire apartment is silent. 

He needlessly shuts the door again, backing up to sit on the bed, rubbing his eyes with one hand. _I didn't dream that_ , he tells himself firmly, the memory of Dean's lips too real as they moved against his in the consummate darkness. He'd fallen asleep in a state of wonder, of awe that so much time spent yearning could have yielded such reward. 

"Spoke too soon," he mutters to himself, getting up to make the bed and brush his teeth, mechanically going through the motions of every other morning that he's woken up alone. He wonders what time Dean got up and snuck out this morning, regretting whatever vulnerable state of mind had led him to ask for a comfort he would normally never seek from Cas. He showers methodically, trying not to dwell on Dean's absence, and if he has to wash his face more than once there's no one around to see.

He puts his favorite lounge clothes back on afterwards, eschewing boxers and socks. The sweatpants and t-shirt he'd worn last night are sufficient for the long weekend of moping he has planned, but now he's going to need a lot of coffee, and he's still rubbing his damp hair with a towel as he finally forces himself towards the kitchen. 

"There you are," he hears, and whips the towel off his head to see Dean standing in his kitchen with a spatula and a smile. "We need to have a discussion about the contents of your pantry if I'm going to be making breakfast from now on," he continues, oblivious to the shock on Cas's face as he turns back to the stove. "I even had to buy this spatula when I went to the store!"

"You're here," Cas says on an exhale, and the tone of his voice causes Dean to turn back to him. He looks questioning, then unsure, and he turns off the stove and takes the pan off the burner before he faces Cas.

"Is it okay that I'm still here?" he asks softly. "I know we still have a lot to talk about, but I thought..." he looks away, and Cas moves quickly to stand in front of him.

"Dean," he says, the pads of his fingers putting light pressure on the curve of Dean's jaw until he faces him. "You were gone when I woke up, and I got the wrong idea. There's nowhere else I want you to be but here." 

"Yeah?" Dean says, a slow smile creeping over his face, the good one where his eyes crinkle at the corners. "Good. That's good, Cas." He laughs lightly, his hands coming up to pull Cas closer by his head, leaning their foreheads together. "You and me, huh? Are you sure this is what you want?"

Cas kisses him softly, pressing his hands into the planes of Dean's chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart pulsing against his palms. 

"Of course. I just never knew that you did until you let it slip when you fell asleep on the couch."

Dean laughs as he turns in Cas's embrace so he can go back to making pancakes, and Cas moves his arms to encircle Dean's waist as he cooks.

"Maybe I wasn't really asleep," he confesses after a few minutes, flipping the pancake once the bubbles break across its surface. "I just couldn't figure out how to find out what I wanted to know."

"Next time you should just ask, _sweetheart_."


End file.
